


Well-Trained

by KretinaDivina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Creepy Uncle Daemon, Dirty Talk, F/M, Uncle/Niece Incest, flea bottom fic exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KretinaDivina/pseuds/KretinaDivina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaenyra has much to be thankful for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well-Trained

**Author's Note:**

> Well! I wrote this in November 2014 for the Thanksgiving challenge over at the [ Flea Bottom Fic Exchange](http://fleabottomfics.tumblr.com/), which I co-ran (and need to resurrect at some point). I could've sworn I'd already posted it, but...

They are in the midst of a rainy season, and each day on the bleak rock far out in the Blackwater feels colder and more bitter than the last.  Or so Rhaenyra imagines.

For the cold and wind has helped her learn, and as she learns, she grows better, and Uncle Daemon’s praise grows more bountiful and warms her.  There is so much warmth to be had there on that lonely rock: the tingles up her spine as Caraxes roars overhead, searching for prey; the warmth of Uncle Daemon’s hands knotting in her hair and his solid thighs brushing against her; the warmth of his release in her mouth, which seems to arrive quicker and quicker each time.  She has never been _less_ cold in all her years.

Today she has done her best job yet, she believes.  With her gown unlaced and her teats hanging free in the chilly air, she has brought Uncle Daemon to his finish expertly.  She has suckled at the head of his thick cock, her tongue teasing the slit, her hand wrapped around the base so that her fingers might brush his heavy balls, all just like he’s taught her; she even thought to wrap her teats around his cock and pleasure him that way.  Uncle Daemon moans so loud throughout that Caraxes’ roars cannot drown him out, and as he spills across her tongue, the pleasure causes his face to contort and his eyes to close.

She swallows it all, of course, as a good princess ought, but makes contact with Uncle Daemon’s darkened eyes as she wipes some stray moisture from her lips with the back of her hand.

“Very good, my princess,” Uncle Daemon says, propping himself up on his elbows with his damp cock lolling against his thigh, not yet entirely soft.  “See the things you can do when you listen?  You have done well with my training.”

He caresses her cheek fondly, and Rhaenyra decides it is time.  She brushes her hair back from her face and inclines her chest slightly forward so that her teats look even bigger.  “Uncle Daemon, can’t you take my maidenhead today?  Please?  I want to feel your cock inside me.”  She is glad her face does not flush, but still she burns between her legs.  There was a time when she did not think of Uncle Daemon’s cock as she lay awake at night, but that time has long passed.  Now, as she ruts against pillows and her own hand, she thinks of him.

Uncle Daemon chuckles.  “My cock was just inside you, greedy child.”

“Please?  I want you to claim me as your own.”  She smiles just slightly.  “Make me _yours_.”

“Are you really so foolish and young you’ve missed the point of our lessons?” Uncle Daemon says.  “I thought you were old enough to learn.”

“I _am_.  So I wish to learn more.”

“Ah, Rhaenyra.”  Uncle Daemon reaches and brushes his knuckles oh-so-slightly against one of her nipples.  She shudders with pleasure.  “You know your maidenhead is to be somebody else’s.  That is what you are being trained for.”

She pouts at him, feeling childish; at the same time, she knows Uncle Daemon loves being reminded of his age and power.  It might work in her favor.

He sighs.  “Don’t think I don’t appreciate what you do, Rhaenyra.  Lie down and lift your skirts.”

She complies, her heart pounding.

“Spread your legs.  Show me your cunt.”

He pats her just above where the sensitive skin of her cunt begins, where her silvery curls grow.  He does not move his hand lower.

“How fine you would look heavy with my child, sweet niece,” he says.  “But it is not meant to be.  Ser Cole awaits you.”  He takes her right hand and bends her fingers so only two extend, then moves her hand towards her cunt.  She understands, and slides her fingers inside herself.

“What a _hungry_ girl,” Uncle Daemon muses.  He takes her other hand and guides it towards her nub.  “There you are.  Now pleasure yourself for me.  I’m sure you know how.  Let no one say Daemon Targaryen is not a grateful man.”


End file.
